What can an artist do about it?

"The Third of May 1808" by Rancisco Goya

“The Third of May 1808″ by Francisco Goya, 1814

Any American would have been shocked by it: the senseless murders of three spectators in the bombings fifty yards apart at the finish line of the Boston Marathon on April 15th; over 250 injured, at least eight of them children; the death of an eight-year-old boy; the amputations of limbs for ten others.

It was one of the most violent terrorist acts on America’s soil in recent history, at the world’s oldest annual marathon. Thousands experienced it locally and firsthand, as the event traditionally draws over 500,000 spectators. Millions viewed it on TV, replayed in shocking detail on every major national network.

Film showed runners who had just completed the race running back into the course to help the injured. Police and first responders rushed to the aid of the wounded with blankets, gurneys, and medical assistance. Viewers at televisions across the nation could only sit or stand transfixed as they tried to comprehend the carnage of the innocents who had suffered the shrapnel of a death-dealing blow. In living rooms everywhere, far from the smoke and violence, we were unable to think, breathe, or even lift a hand, transfixed by the horror of an ultimately cruel attack.

I have had the privilege to run the Boston Marathon three times. The highlight, for me, was The Hundredth, or Centennial Boston Marathon in 1996, that set the record for the world’s largest marathon at 38,708 entrants and 35,868 finishers. It’s properly called the “Boston Athletic Association Marathon,” and is begun and run in cities largely outside Boston—in fact, runners don’t even see Boston until five miles after Heartbreak Hill, at 24.5 miles. In fact, in the early days of the marathon, what was printed on the finishers’ medals was the name, “the American Marathon.”

Rick Delanty at Finish Line of Long Beach Marathon - October 2007

Long Beach Marathon

Marathon running is a thinking-person’s sport. Like painting, it allows you to think about anything and everything, but the need to focus is ever-present. And like painting, one needs to have a goal, a plan to reach that goal, and the skills, mindset, and conditioning to go with it. It offers victory to those who persevere.

But there was to be no victory that day, April 15th, for those runners on their way to the finish line at 2:49 p.m…. even for those who were turning that final corner onto Boylston Street to finally realize their dreams of completing “the Boston.” The bombings destroyed those dreams of the finish line in the same instant that they devastated the crowds gathered around that line. It was hopeless to go back, to wish it hadn’t happened. Only one question remained: “What can we do now; what should we do?”

That brings it all the way back, to each one of us. As artists, what can we do in the face of this disaster, and others, that threaten to destroy even the survivors?…that threatens to overwhelm all the good that exists in society, in any works of man and art, and which is powerful enough to reduce our creative morale to rubble?…so powerful that we might ultimately consider that the arts are nothing in the face of real evil, and that the artist and his/her artwork has “head in the clouds,” and is standing in front of tragedy without real weapons, or even an answer to man’s inhumanity to man.

Should we continue to stand, or run? Shouldn’t we feel defeated, then get angry, and seek revenge? Should we abandon our principles? If we do that, then we fall prey to the very behavior that we condemn in those who try to steal and destroy that which is good. In the wake of senseless acts like the Boston bombings, I feel all of those emotions—but that’s all they are. As an artist, I would rather attempt to do something positive, than to believe that there can be no response or action that is worthwhile, and helpful. So once again I have been considering the power of Art in light of this question: as an artist, what can I do to counteract this violence that exists in the world, this evil, this threat to all we hold to be true?

“Do not be overcome by evil, but overcome evil with good.” - Romans 12:21

"Blessing, Malachi 3:10" by Rick Delanty, 24" x 24"

“Blessing, Malachi 3:10″ by Rick Delanty, 24″ x 24″

Artworks have the capacity to convey a positive message, to reveal the truth of the unseen, to describe beauty, to define the good that still exists, to communicate between cultures and without spoken language, and to heal. Perhaps that is why occupying armies frequently seek to destroy first the artworks of those they wish to vanquish—to immediately banish beauty, order, and hope in the good from the oppressed.

But each working artist that believes in the power of Art to convey the good is like a Florence Nightingale on the battlefield, among the tents where the wounded lie, going from one victim to the other and ministering to the spirits of those who would otherwise lose hope. Grace and strength will always win out over malice and wickedness. There is power in benevolence, and hope in the sight of the loveliness of a creative spirit. Art that expresses the truth in kindness and gratefulness will disarm the rage, and advance the welfare of all who see it.

As artists, we can do good, and strive to create great artworks. To create at the highest level is a victory over all who would strive to destroy.

"Rachel" by Rick J Delanty, 14 x 11

“Rachel” by Rick J Delanty, 14 x 11

It’s Just Paint and Canvas

"Perihelion" by Rick Delanty, 24x24

“Perihelion” by Rick Delanty, 24×24

What is the true “market value” of a painting? How does a potential collector know that a fair price is being offered? After all, the price can be negotiated… It’s not like a car, a stereo system, or a suit jacket that contains technical components and can be shopped between stores. It’s only paint and canvas, right?

Lines, colors, shapes, usually on a flat rectangular surface: that’s how we most often define “a painting.” As an objet d’art it has perceived value, both inside and out of the marketplace. Often paintings contain little or no moving parts. Precious metals may be employed, but not usually — it’s simply canvas by-the-yard and pigment. The materials of which a painting is made today are not much different than they were thousands of years ago, when early man painted and engraved shapes of animals on cave walls, with crushed plants and vegetable matter for paint, and animal-fat crayons and fingertips for brushes. The technology of paint-making and the variety of painting surfaces have significantly improved since then, but paint is still made of pigments and the surface of a painting is still usually flat. Doesn’t sound that impressive, does it?

“The synthesis of truth and beauty…is the highest and deepest reality.”Ovid

"Point Glow" by Rick Delanty, 16x20

“Point Glow” by Rick Delanty, 16×20

Let’s consider the work of those early artists, at places like Lascaux and Altamira: they were the agents of man’s first recorded history. Their wall paintings speak to us through the millennia, even though their materials were elemental. Those artworks still communicate human ideas, perceptions, the very milieu in which early men and women lived. Those paintings today give us an insight into a culture, basal psychology, and the soul of early man. Those artworks were — as all artworks have been since those first paintings were created—visions, thoughts, dreams and an exploration of what it means to be human. Those paintings in sedimentary sanctuaries were not — and are not now — simply colored dirt on stone: they are the reality of a time gone by.

“ We keep our eyes on the things we cannot see: for the things which we can see are temporal; the things that are unseen are eternal.”2 Corinthians 4:18

"Sunset Billows" by Rick Delanty, 16x20

“Sunset Billows” by Rick Delanty, 16×20

It’s the vision encapsulated in those ancient artworks that give them their true value, not the materials with which they are made. Then as now, it is the material that gives the immaterial form and meaning, and which gives any painting its value. How well a contemporary artwork does that for each viewer or potential collector in today’s marketplace, how deeply the painting establishes a personal connection, is what gives the work its significance and worth. Paintings enable us to see more than the obvious, to break free of our prejudices, to elevate our thoughts. The author Charlotte Bronte expressed this ability of the artist to help us “see” on a higher plane: “I try to avoid looking forward or backward, and try to keep looking upward.”

The artist is the catalyst in this process of Imagineering and revelation. It is through the artist’s eye that new possibilities can be discovered, and comprehended. In fact, former President John F. Kennedy underlined that creative significance: “I see little of more importance to the future of our country and of civilization than full recognition of the place of the artist. If art is to nourish the roots of our culture, society must set the artist free to follow his vision wherever it takes him.” The painter does what the director does for a film, or the composer for a symphony. He or she draws unrelated concepts together, instills pattern, variety and unity, and discloses the essence of an idea. If we look through the painter’s lens, we are treated to a new perspective on reality. The visionary artist is a conductor on the journey to an exotic destination. We begin to understand that here is something higher in that artwork, than just paint and canvas.

“An artist is not paid for his labor, but for his vision.”James Abbot McNeill Whistler

For a painting, it is the experience of the artist expressed therein that is of utmost value. The material nature of the work is quite secondary. A painting that conveys the power of emotion to the viewer is more than “just paint and canvas.” It is the description of a heartfelt concept that has been forged into tangible excellence through a creative process of envisioning and technical facility. It even has the power to change lives. “(Art) has the capacity to penetrate even the most callous skin and to ignite a revolution from within,” as musician Benjamin Moore so eloquently reminds us. Pursuing art with our whole hearts and minds is probably the most civilizing undertaking we can do as artists. “What a privilege it is to be able to take brush in hand and put paint on paper in this troubled world,” is our encouragement from artist Veronica Stensby.

A painting’s value is not in its material nature, as “just paint and canvas.” Rather, it is the vision an artist expresses with those materials that is of value: that slice of heaven, the best of the Best, that idea of the Ideal, that is the central core of both the material and spiritual worth of an artwork.

What is FINE art?

Keith Bond, fine landscape painter at www.keithbond.com, has raised several interesting questions for artists in his recent post regarding “Fine Art v. Illustration.”

 

"Horseshoe Falls" by Rick J. Delanty, 36x48

“Horseshoe Falls” by Rick J. Delanty, 36×48

As a landscape painter myself, I admire Keith’s work, as he is obviously sensitive to his surroundings, a keen observer, and a skilled artist. Raising the topic of whether any artist is a fine artist or illustrator, especially in light of the fact that stunning volumes of incredible art have been produced by those who consider and call themselves “illustrators” as well as those who don’t, just increases the difficulty of categorizing artists as either one or the other. It’s like hoisting a dime on a pole and trying to shoot it from fifty yards–no one is ever going to hit it. The personal goals of all kinds of artists are certain to be similar, in that they wish to create the best work of which they are capable.

 

The question that Keith raises, though, “What is Fine Art, Anyway?”  is an important question for all artists to answer, I believe, because all artists who are working seriously—and seriously working—very much want to produce art that is truly “fine.” The dictionary defines “Fine Art” as that which is “produced for beauty rather than utility.” Wow, if we take that definition as gospel, that definitely undersells some of the most magnificent illustrations from the course of human history that have been created for books, churches, posters, hymnals, and advertisements. Just to mention a few, consider those “fine” illustrations from the body of work of such greats as Michelangelo, Rembrandt, Gustave Doré, and Rick Griffin (The Bible )  N.C. Wyeth ( Last of the Mohicans, Treasure Island), Howard Pyle (Robin Hood, King Arthur), Rockwell Kent (Moby Dick), Norman Rockwell (“The Four Freedoms,” “The Problem We All Live With”). Even my favorite artists, who probably created the first profession known to man, the cave artists (Lascaux, Altamira, the Magdalenians) might have been creating their art for utility—hunting and animal worship—or not. Perhaps it was the beauty of the forms themselves that captured their imagination, which in turn inspired them to capture that beauty in charcoal.

 

From the enduring quality of these artworks, it would appear that all those artists mentioned above—whose works were “illustrations” for definite purposes of dissemination—were intent on creating beauty within and emanating from those artworks, which then became “useful” (having a broad impact and appeal) as much as they were truly “beautiful.” How could those artists have captured the beauty of human form, its costume, the elegant turn of a whale’s fin, the power of a bison’s charge, unless they, too, had—as is very evident in Keith Bond’s work—“a reverence for the world in which we live”—and a spirit of both “exploration and veneration.” In my own work, I am also hoping that that same spirit of reverence for creation and its Creator is both alive and evident.

 

"Overflow" by Rick J. Delanty, 36x36

“Overflow” by Rick J. Delanty, 36×36

Keith suggests that perhaps illustrators and fine artists are not that much different. I quite agree. I would suggest that– more important than the categorization of artists into this camp or that—the most significant question for artists to answer is “Why” they do what they do, and whether they are creating successful works of art. Herein, for me, lies the definition of “Fine Art”—those artworks which creatively inspire, stimulate you to feel something, communicate a message in a unique and unified way, are created in a medium and are of a scale that best conveys that message, and are presented in such a way that nothing distracts the viewer from what the artist is saying. In my opinion, “Fine” art is that which successfully communicates the artist’s message, a truth about existence, whether that truth be personal, historical, social, or even product-oriented. Those artists that we admire the most, I daresay, are those that communicate the truth of what it is to be human, whether they be painters, sculptors, jewelers, photographers, musicians, actors, dancers, mimes or ad-men. Creativity and truth are at the heart of fine artworks, whether they are intended to have a broad appeal (as in advertising), or an intimate one (as between the artist and an audience of one).

 

Fine artists learn the foundational skills of effective design, composition, color choice and more because they know that those artistic choices, when effectively employed, will create symbolism, evoke emotion, and convey meaning. It is the constant honing of their craft that will produce “fine” works of art that will inspire and impact an audience, whether the channel for that art is a painting, a book, a sculpture, or an advertisement. “Fine” art is simply that which is finely expressed and executed.

 

Thanks, Keith, for your post. It helped me to answer some of my own questions about what I am doing , and further clarify in my own mind why the arts and dedicated artists—“fine,” illustrators, or otherwise—are all invaluable to our culture, and to our civilization.